


Light

by kgirl1



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kgirl1/pseuds/kgirl1
Summary: Ezra wants to train Jacen in the Force. For Hera, the decision isn't so easy. Could be seen as a companion to “Anew.”





	Light

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Two pieces in under 24 hours? Woohoo! This was inspired by one of Ezra's lines in the first chapter of "Anew," but you don't have to read that one to get it. I don't think my heart, or my writing, will ever be over Hera losing Kanan.

_"He's light, Hera."_

She remembered the way Ezra had said it about Jacen once, as joyful and beaming as if he was telling her that Kanan was coming back.

" _He's all light,"_  he'd said.

 _So were you, once,_  Hera had wanted to tell him, but thought better of it. Kanan had chronicled his padawan's struggles with the dark side, illustrating them with his own and with the temptation that every Force-user faced.

" _Fighting out of anger, out of hatred, out of fear… the negative emotions come stronger, so drawing from them makes you feel stronger,"_ he'd explained it once. _"But it's a trap. It drags you down so deep you never come back."_

They'd worried for Ezra, back in the days of Maul and holochrons. Now, as she watched Jacen, playing with Ezra in a mock lightsaber duel, she felt that same anxiety returning to gnaw at the base of her stomach.

Ezra had first offered to train Jacen a year ago, and it had taken every ounce of self-control she had not to slap him across the face.

" _He's five," she'd said with a clenched jaw. "He hasn't even lost all of his teeth yet."_

A year later, and he still hadn't lost all of his teeth—it was one of those strange human traits she didn't quite understand, like the constantly growing hair (the first time her son had run to her, gums bleeding and empty tooth in hand like a miniature trophy, she'd gotten Sabine on the comm so fast the Mandalorian had thought they were starting another war)—but Jacen was six now, and Ezra's repeated argument had been that the Jedi had started training as early as birth.

" _That is total Sith spit," Sabine had rolled her eyes. Hera resisted the urge to reprimand her for language, a resistance made more difficult by that she'd been thinking the same thing._

" _Okay, maybe they weren't_ training _from birth," Ezra had admitted—after all these years, Sabine still had that effect on him— "But they would live in the Temple. Kanan told me they started working with the toddlers as soon as two or three."_

But even her fears of the dark side—and more significantly, of those who used it coming for her son—couldn't keep her from admitting that the Force was strong with Jacen. She'd seen him connect with animals in markets, just like Ezra had, and he was amazingly perceptive, always seeing right through whatever emotional shields she put up for him (which was a little annoying, really, because what was motherhood if you couldn't get away with telling your children little white lies?). Most recently, she'd slipped into his room to check on him in his sleep and found all of his toys floating in midair.

That was when she'd made the call. Ezra had been eager, although she appreciated how hard he'd tried to keep both that and the "I told you so" out of his voice.

" _Hera?" He'd sounded groggy. "It's late, is everything okay?"_

" _I want you to train Jacen," she'd said, without so much as a hello._

_It was only an audio comm, but she could practically hear his eyebrows fly up._

" _R—really?"_

" _Yes. Really," she said, before she could change her mind. "How soon can we come?"_

" _Well, I…" she heard some shuffling. "I mean, I can be ready by tomorrow, if—"_

" _Perfect," she said. "See you then."_

_Hera was tempted to shut off the comm right then and there, but his voice stopped her._

" _Hera…" It was half a statement, half a question, and entirely weighted._

_She swallowed. "Yes?"_

" _I… well, this might sound funny, coming from me, but… I think you're making the right choice."_

_Hera hung up._

That had been last night. She'd woken up early, unable to sleep, to brew caf and wait for Jacen to stir. When an acceptable hour finally rolled around, she entered his bedroom and sat on the side of his bed. Jacen's eyelashes fluttered, and he yawned, looking up at her through sleepy eyes.

"Mama?"

"Good morning, love," she said. "How'd you like to go visit Lothal?"

Jacen loved Lothal—he'd spent plenty of time with Sabine there, whenever Hera was on missions that even she had to admit were far too dangerous for a child, and the pair had always enjoyed their time.

But instead of grinning and jumping excitedly out of bed like he usually did when she talked about a new trip, he sat up and cocked his head at her.

"Are you coming with?" he asked.

"Of course I am," she said.

Jacen narrowed his eyes. "Are you  _staying_ with?"

Hera felt a pang of guilt at that—"trip to Lothal" was usually code for "drop-off-with-Auntie-Sabine-while-Mommy-goes-on-a-dangerous-mission-that-you-don't-need-to-know-she-might-not-come-back-from"—and Jacen, astute Force-sensitive that he was, had picked up on that.

She gave him her best, most convincing smile. "Yes, I'm staying."

And  _there_  was that big six-year-old grin she'd been waiting for.

"Good," Jacen said. "When are we leaving?"

"As soon as you have breakfast," Hera said.

"But Mom!"

"But nothing; you remember what happened last time I tried to take off when you were eating."

"That was one time!"

"And the kitchen  _still_  smells like blue milk, so we'll go once your dishes are put away, thank you."

* * *

Jacen scarfed down his breakfast so quickly she was worried he'd get a stomachache, and then they were off. It was nearly night by the time they made it to Lothal, and she caught Jacen masking a yawn when the  _Ghost_  landed.

Hera's hands were shaking as they approached the tower.

"Auntie Bean!" Jacen yelled as he opened the door.

"Jace!" she yelled back, and came running to greet them with open arms. Hera would get choked up now and then, thinking about how much Sabine had matured and since they'd first met, but Jacen always brought out the youthful glee in her. She swept him up in a hug and spun them in a circle, laughing.

"I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too," Jacen hugged her and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek. Sabine laughed, rubbed their noses together and set him down.

"Jace, are you excited to—"

Hera made a slashing motion with her hand.  _"He doesn't know yet,"_  she mouthed over her child's head.

"Watch the new season of Hutts versus Jedi together?" Sabine finished quickly. Jacen's eyes lit up.

"Yeah," he exclaimed. Then he bit his lip. "But, um, first, can I use your 'fresher?"

"Please?" Hera prompted.

"Can I use your 'fresher  _please?"_  Jacen asked, squeezing his little legs together for effect.

Sabine chuckled. "Sure thing, Jace."

He darted off, and Sabine turned back to Hera, her eyes softening.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," Hera smiled, as Sabine moved in to give her a warm embrace. They gave full hugs now—had ever since Kanan had died—big, bodily embraces that checked with arms and legs and chest to make sure you were still there, to make sure you hadn't shrunk into something smaller than yourself. Sabine's body was warm and familiar and not too thin this time, and Hera allowed herself to be at ease for just a second.

Sabine stepped back. "Ezra will be back from the market any minute," she said. "How are you?"

"Good," Hera said. "Can I borrow a speeder?"

Sabine blinked.

"Um, sure," she said. "I'll… I'll get you set up."

"Thank you," Hera said, and followed Sabine out to the shed. One of the speeders was gone, likely the one Ezra had taken; he and Sabine had lived together on Lothal ever since he'd come back. Hera didn't know the nature of their relationship, and last she'd heard from Sabine, they hadn't defined it for themselves, either.

" _I don't know what it is or what we are,"_ she'd told Hera once. _"I just know that I don't want to be without him again." Sabine had faltered, then; dropping her stare down to her hands in her lap. "And… I think he feels the same way."_

_A moment later, she tried to qualify what she'd said, take any romanticism out of it._

" _He was gone for a long time, you know, I think it's good for him to be with people for a while."_

_Hera had mm-hmmed and tried her very hardest to look innocuous, but Sabine had seen right through it, grumbling something like a "shut up" and nudging her elbow into the twi'lek's side._

Hera thought back on the exchange as the speeder zipped through the plains of Lothal.

" _Just… make sure you tell him,"_  she'd finally said.  _"If you know you feel something, both of you, you have to tell him."_

_Sabine had looked downright solemn. "I will."_

Hera felt that the subtext of the entire conversation had been a plea:  _Don't make the same mistakes that I did._

She parked the speeder at the base of the rock monolith and started climbing. She was gasping for breath by the time she'd reached the cave—yet another reminder that she was getting older—but a stillness overtook her as she entered. It was nearly nightfall, yet the cave was softly lit. However strange, the Force had its ways.

In the center of the cave sat the mask, the Kalikori at its side. She approached slowly, touching each with hesitance, afraid as she always was that they would turn to ash in her hands. She traced the lining of the mask with her thumbs and brought it up to her face, inhaling—there was still the lingering, ephemeral scent of Kanan, and it sparked tears in her eyes.

In a flash, she relived it all—clinging to his back as he carried her up the side of the dome, soaring through the air together one last time, climbing to the top of the fuel pod, those three words burning on her lips.

Their last kiss.

Ezra and Sabine just seconds too late.

The fire. Scorching, burning heat. The grip of the Force like a vise around her chest; the steely determination flashing in his eyes.

Her throat, torn raw around his name.

And then, nothing.

Hera sank down with her back against the wall and began to weep, clutching the mask in her hands. Visions of Kanan, of Jacen meeting the same fate, overwhelmed her, and she closed her eye against the tears.

"You're not crying already, are you?"

She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve, hiding a smile beneath it. "Shut up."

"Ooh, ouch. I hope you don't use that language around our son."

She scrubbed under her eyes and chuckled through the tears. "Hi, Kanan."

"Hi."

His voice came from the air; his presence surrounded her like an embrace. She took a deep, shuddering breath and blinked the tears away.

"You made it," she said.

She heard him snort, and remembered the way his nostrils used to flare whenever he did that.

"You say that like it's easy," he said. "You realize this is the equivalent of the Kessel Run for me."

Then, a pause, and it was like she could  _feel_  him deliberating whether or not to crack the next joke.

"Although I've heard that Han Solo guy can do it in 12 parsecs—"

"Ugh." Hera hadn't even intended to groan, but it came out all the same. "Solo."

Kanan chuckled. "He's not such a bad guy."

"He's not quite a good guy, either," she said.

"He's helped Leia with a lot," he said.

She narrowed her eyes at the ceiling, even though she knew his presence wasn't manifested there. "How do you know?"

"I know these things," he said, in that frustratingly smug Kanan way of his.

"Aren't you so omniscient," she rolled her eyes.

He chuckled, and she did too, and then they sat in the kind of comfortable silence they'd shared so many times on the  _Ghost._.

He broke it first.

"Why'd you come?" he asked. "It's good to see you, but I know you only visit when it's important."

His tone was gentle, curious, unaccusatory. The visits were difficult for both of them: emotionally, for Hera, and in physically manifesting, for Kanan. Often she was only able to hear his voice, although sometimes there would be the faint sensation of his hand on her shoulder.

She sighed. "It's Jacen."

"Ah." She could almost see him nodding in thought. "Girl trouble?"

"Kanan." Hera tried and failed not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd made her laugh.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled. "What is it?"

"It's…" she sighed, testing the words out on her tongue, "The Force." They felt heavy. "Ezra wants to train him in it."

Kanan was silent, but his presence stronger than ever.

"And I… I don't know what's right," she said, feeling the lump creep back up in her throat. "I… I know he's strong with it, but… I'm scared, Kanan. There's so much... so much that could go wrong."

He was thoughtfully silent for a moment.

"An untrained Force user is a target," he finally said.

Her fear flashed to anger. "Isn't a trained Force user a bigger one?"

"Not necessarily—"

"Kanan, nobody came after Ezra until  _we_  took him in," Hera said, and thought,  _"Until we started training him."_

"You're worried about that happening to Jacen," Kanan said.

"Of course I am," Hera said. "The Inquisitors, the bounty hunters, the stormtroopers, Maul _…_  all of them nearly cost Ezra his life. And for… for  _what?"_  She gestured in the empty air. "Wielding a lightsaber? Lifting rocks?"

Kanan chuckled. "It's a little more than that."

"Is it? Is it though?" Her voice rose. "Tell me, what will he really miss out on, if we don't train him to use it?"

"Well—"

"Constant persecution? Heightened paranoia?"

"Hera…"

"The dark side, pulling at him with every step?"

"No—"

"Throwing himself headfirst into every righteous cause that comes his way? Getting himself killed?" Her hand were shaking. "Because really, Kanan, what's so great about the Force and its powers if it can't keep you  _alive?"_

The cave fell silent; her outburst ringing in echoes against the rocks. Trembling, Hera lowered her hands and brought her back to rest against the cavern wall.

He was still there, but he was silent.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "You know the Force and I don't… get along."

 _Not since it took you from me,_  she thought, but chose not to say it, even though he'd probably figured that out for himself.

He made her wait a long time before he spoke.

"Training Jacen," he said. "Is it really him you're scared for?"

"Don't do that," she said, glaring dully at the cavern walls. "That's not fair."

"I'm just asking you to think about it," he said.

"Easy for you to say," she said. "If some dark-sider offs him, you'll have him all to yourself."

Kanan was silent. Hera pressed her fingertips to her temples.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was cruel."

"You know I care about him as much as you do," he said.

"I know."

"Which is why I'm asking you to trust the Force," he said.

At hearing those words, Hera buried her face in her hands.

"What?"

She didn't respond.

"Hera…"

Hera lifted her head; there were tears in her eyes.

"The Force took everything from me, Kanan," she said, her voice breaking. "And I'm only just getting it back, and it is  _so, hard,_  to hear you ask that."

Her question was met with silence. Hera returned her face to her hands, shaking and trying not to cry, gripped by fear and anxiety for Jacen's future. There was a murmur, a ripple, a swell in the air around her, too big to have been imagined, and she lifted her head and looked into teal eyes.

Hera burst into tears.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest, and she shook in his embrace. Kanan rocked her gently until the tears had subsided.

"I just… I'm so  _scared,_ Kanan," she said. "I'm terrified."

"I know," he said.

"I can't lose him," she said. "Not to the dark side or someone who wields it."

"I know."

"And the idea of training him, of being the one who paints the target on his back—"

"Hey." He pulled back to look in her eyes. "You're not painting a target on his back. If anything, training will save his life."

She took a deep, shaky breath, looking back at him.

"You really think this is the right thing?"

He stared at her, open, honest, candid. Kanan.

And he nodded.

"I do."

At those words, Hera's stomach turned to ice, but she managed to nod back.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Then I do too."

A tiny smile graced his lips. He looked at her for a long moment and then slowly faded away, the warmth of his arms around her the last thing to go. Hera felt her body settle back against the cool rock of the cave, heard the last reverberations of his voice humming in her bones. If she closed her eyes, she could almost still feel his presence, shrinking away.

She sat there for a long time, until Lothal's moons had lifted the curtain of night.

The tower was quiet when she returned. Sabine was tucked in an armchair in the common room, fast asleep with a book open in her lap and the lamp next to her still on. She'd been waiting—Hera felt a pang of guilt at that.

She checked for signs of a blaster before tapping her shoulder.

"Sabine," she whispered.

Sabine jolted and her eyes popped open, but when they landed on Hera, she relaxed.

"Hera," she mumbled. "You're back."

"Go to sleep," Hera said. "We'll talk in the morning."

Sabine's eyes were already half-closed. "Alright."

Hera followed her as she padded back to the bedrooms; she was sure there would be questions in the morning, but for now, they would rest.

She stopped in Jacen's room on her way to her own. To her surprise, her son was sitting up in bed, moonlight casting slanted shadows on his face.

"Mama?" he whispered.

"Hi, Jace," she said, entering the room, trying to be casual. "Couldn't sleep?"

"You said you were staying," he said.

Hera felt that like a punch in the gut. "I am staying," she said, taking a seat on his bed. "I just… had to visit someone."

"Dad?" Jacen asked.

There was a pang in her heart. "Yes, love," she said. "Dad."

Jacen was quiet, and then, "Why didn't you take me?"

Hera hesitated, pursing her lips. "I… needed his advice," she said. "About you, actually."

Jacen's eyebrows raised, and the anxiety crept into her stomach at full force. Hera took a deep breath. "About something I haven't told you yet," she said.

"What is it?"

She looked at her son, watching her closely, his blue eyes wide and trusting. She pictured him going through the forms at Ezra's side, wielding a lightsaber for the first time, crinkling his brow in concentration as he lifted an object with his mind.

She pictured him doing none of these things, growing up safe and conventional and protectable. It was easy, at first—Jacen at her side, Jacen flying the  _Phantom II,_  Jacen working to lead the New Republic into the future.

But there was a lingering sheen to the images in her mind, the color slightly wrong, Jacen's expression never fully happy. Without training, he would grow up confused, lost—always feeling a little different, a little off, a little out of place.

Who Jacen was—who Jacen could be—was something in which only the Force could be his guide. To raise him with anything short of that would be cruelty.

Hera cleared her throat.

"Do you remember when we visited Dad, and I explained why we could hear his voice, even though he isn't alive anymore?"

Jacen nodded. "You said it's because of the Force," he said.

"That's right," Hera said, and oh gods, there was a lump in her throat already. "And you remember how your Dad was very strong with the Force?"

"Mhm."

"And how when we met Ezra, it was Dad who trained him to use the Force?"

Jacen nodded again.

"Well, Jace," Hera said, "Ezra and I think that you might be able to use the Force, too."

Jacen's eyes went as wide and round as Lothal's moons, and his jaw dropped.

"I can use the  _Force?"_

Hera fought to keep her expression neutral. "With proper training, yes," she said.

"So I could be a Jedi? Like Dad?"

He'd immediately jumped to  _"Jedi like Dad."_  Hera couldn't tell if her heart was bursting or shrinking. "Maybe," she said.

"Can I use it right now? Can I lift stuff with my mind? Do I get a lightsaber?"

His enthusiasm would have been endearing, were this any other cause. "One thing at a time, Jace," she said. "Ezra wants to start with basic training first."

"So we get to stay here? On Lothal? With Ezra and Sabine?" he asked, looking excited. Gods, he wasn't going to sleep a wink tonight.

"That's right," she said.

Jacen's lips spread in an even wider grin. "This is so cool!"

"Uh-huh," she said, and hoped it was convincing.

"I'm going to be a Jedi!"

Her blood chilled. "Well—"

"Was Dad excited about it? What did he say?"

The lump returned to her throat, and Hera chose her next words very carefully.

"He said that he loves you," she said. "And that he wants you to be safe."

"That sounds boring," Jacen said, squinting his eyes at her. "Is that  _really_  what he said?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "That sounds like something you would say."

Hera pretended to gasp, and touched a hand to her heart as if she'd been immensely hurt.

"Are you saying _I'm_  the boring one?"

"I'm not  _saying_  that," Jacen said. He blinked at her innocently but couldn't hide the smile creeping on his lips. Hera rolled her eyes and nudged him playfully.

"Alright, mister," she said. "That's bedtime for you for sure."

Jacen protested, but she was adamant, and after a brief debate, he finally lay his head down.

"Hey, Mama?" He looked up at her, his brows furrowing together.

Hera was still seated at the edge of his bed. "Yes love?"

"Are you okay?"

Hera gave him her most convincing smile. "Of course."

Jacen blinked up at her. "Do you want to sleep with me?"

_He was too old for that, he was getting too big for that, she had to encourage his independence, he wouldn't be her baby forever—_

But despite every parenting-holo phrase running through her head, Hera found herself nodding, and Jacen lifted the covers for her and she crawled into the bed. Her son yawned, settling on his side, and she mirrored him so that she was staring at the back of his head. He was too big to curl into her side the way he had when he was younger, but that had been when he needed to draw comfort from her. Now, she found herself listening to his breath draw in and out, watching his chest rise and fall beneath the covers. Here, she could protect him from anything in the galaxy.

Tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow, he took up a lifestyle from which there was no going back, put on a cloak that never came off. Eventually, he would have to choose—the light or the dark, the good or the wicked.

But tonight, he was her son, and he was all light; and she decided she would take it upon herself to keep him that way.


End file.
